


Yea, Though I Walk

by thestarsapart



Series: Of the Shadow of Death [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e22 What Kind of Day Has It Been, Episode: s02e01 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen: Part 1, Episode: s02e02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen: Part 2, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsapart/pseuds/thestarsapart
Summary: “I got shot. Somebody shot me,” he said. He felt that perhaps he had known this the whole time, and had only just now gotten around to thinking about it.The Rosslyn shooting, from Jed Bartlet's perspective.





	Yea, Though I Walk

Jed was already standing at the barrier with his hands held out to the crowd when he remembered that he had told the Secret Service he wouldn’t be walking the rope line. Oh, well. He could stand to miss the first few minutes of the softball game. After all, these people had come all this way to see him, and after the great reception he had received in the town hall meeting, he was feeling pretty cheerful. Might as well spread that cheer around. Even Toby was smiling, a rare sight indeed.

The crowd chanted his name as Jed greeted his constituents while trying to ignore the annoyed agents shifting their weight impatiently beside him. He supposed they had televised sporting events that they were looking forward to watching tonight, too, and he decided to start wrapping things up so everyone could go home.

Suddenly a single voice shouted an unintelligible word above the din, just before a deafening blast flattened the crowd and sent Jed’s world into chaos. He spun around as a dozen hands grasped him firmly from all sides. The agents were well-trained, but not gentle. One stepped on his left foot as another drove an elbow into his right side. All the while, the gunshots continued to pierce through the noise of the crowd, who were now screaming as one. The agents dragged him backwards a few feet to the car. One of them shoved him inside, then climbed in and on top of him, shouting “Drive! Drive!” as the door slammed shut behind him.

The noise of the crowd and the gunshots began to fade away. Jed couldn’t see the agent on top of him, but the man’s knee was pressing uncomfortably into Jed’s back, so Jed was glad when the agent finally asked “Are we clear?” and pulled himself off.

“Mr. President?” the agent said, pulling Jed into a sitting position. Jed found himself looking at Ron Butterfield’s concerned face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Ron,” Jed said, wanting to calm the man. Then he finally stopped to think about what just happened and discovered he wasn’t fine at all. “Somebody shot at me,” he murmured, just now realizing it.

“Yes, Mr. President.” Having ensured the safety of his main protectee, Ron began talking into his radio, trying to figure out what was going on.

Jed was processing things much more slowly, but then, he wasn’t really trained for this. “Somebody shot a gun at me. And a crowd of innocent people. And my daughter!” He grabbed Ron by the shoulder. “Ron, where’s Zoey?”

“She’s fine, Mr. President. I just talked to the other car,” Ron said, holding up the radio. “Gina put her in the car, they’re right behind us.”

“Call them again,” Jed insisted. He needed more than anything to see his daughter, but talking to her on the radio was the next best thing.

“Mr. President, Zoey’s secure.”

“Hit her again.”

“She wasn’t hit, sir—”

“Get her on the radio, please.” Don’t these people work for me? Jed thought.  

“Sir, she can’t talk right now.”

Jed felt his heart jump. “Why can’t she talk?”

“She’s vomiting in the car.” Ron’s voice was strained. 

Jed turned to look through the back window, remembering the time Zoey was six years old with the stomach flu, when Abbey was out of town at a conference and Jed stayed up all night holding his little girl’s hand, telling her everything was okay, that she’d feel better in the morning. He remembered that she threw up on his bed and was so embarrassed and miserable that she cried for an hour. “Why the hell—?”

“She’s— It happens, sir.” Ron’s voice softened.

“Why is she vomiting?” Jed asked, confused. Do gunshot wounds make you throw up? Was Zoey hurt or not?

“It happens, it could be shock. She might have gotten an elbow in the stomach.” Jed decided this meant that she hadn’t been shot, then realized that Ron had already told him that. Okay, Zoey wasn’t hurt. Next: is Zoey safe?

“Is Gina with her?” Jed asked. He knew Ron had mentioned Gina, but couldn’t remember what he had said.

“Gina put her in the car,” Ron repeated.

“She’s not with her?” Jed asked. Gina was supposed to be with her. Ron was with him, and Gina should be with Zoey. That’s how it was supposed to work.

“She’s got two other agents in the car, she’s got Mike and Fred, sir, they’re gonna get her back in the White House.” Jed was having trouble following all those words at once, so he looked through the rear window again, trying to see Zoey.

“Why isn’t Gina in the car?” he demanded.

“Gina put Zoey in the car,” Ron said again, visibly struggling to make Jed understand. “Then she stayed behind for the ID agent. Mr. President, please.”

Jed sighed. Zoey was safe. Zoey wasn’t hurt, and she was safe. They were going home, and everything was going to be fine. He leaned back in the seat, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he had run a mile, even though he hadn’t really done anything besides go where the Secret Service pushed him and have an argument with the man trying to protect him. Still, he was exhausted, and had a stitch in his side that reminded him of gym class. So he breathed, trying to calm his heartbeat as well as his racing thoughts. Okay, prioritize: Zoey was unhurt and safe, none of the rest of his family had been there, and the Secret Service was taking him to the White House where he could go back to work. What else? Jed felt another jolt of adrenaline run through him as he realized that he had been standing next to dozens of people when the shooting started, and that assassins don’t always have the best aim. All those gunshots, all those people— Someone had to have been hit. He took another breath and steeled himself to ask the question.

“Is anybody dead back there?”

“We don’t know, we don’t think so,” breathed Ron, who sounded as tired as Jed felt. A flash of color caught Jed’s eye and he realized that Ron’s right hand was covered in blood and wrapped in a handkerchief.

“What happened to your hand?” Jed demanded, angry for a moment at Ron for not telling him he had been injured. Ron began fiddling with his makeshift bandage.

“I got hit,” Ron said with a shrug.

“Oh, God,” said Jed. Somehow the sight of Ron’s bloody hand made it all real. Someone had shot at him with bullets and those bullets had hit people and now there was a hole in Ron’s hand. “Coop, turn around!” Jed shouted to the driver. “We gotta go to the hospital!” Coop ignored him as Ron shook his head and again Jed thought, Don’t these people work for me?

“We’ve got to get you to the White House,” Ron insisted calmly. Jed was not so calm.

“We’re going to the hospital! Let’s go!” he shouted.

“I have to put you inside the White House,” Ron said. “Mr. President, this isn’t something we discuss.”

Jed felt completely helpless. He couldn’t see his daughter, he didn’t know who was alive or dead, and his own people thought that the only thing that mattered was driving him home. “This isn—” He paused mid-yell, reminding himself that Ron and Coop were just doing their jobs. He continued, only slightly more calmly, “My daughter is throwing up on the floor in the car behind us, you’re losing blood by the liter—” the pain in his side was increasing with every breath, but he was on a roll now— “Not to mention God knows how many broken bones you’ve got in your hand, but let’s make sure that I’m tucked in bed before—” Jed took another breath and discovered that the pain in his side didn’t want him to talk anymore. He tasted blood in the back of this throat. Ron, who had been damn near rolling his eyes in exasperation, turned to look at him with an even more startled expression than he had had at the beginning of this interminable car ride.

“Mr. President?” Ron surged forwards, and Jed worried that he was going to climb on top of him again. Instead, he ran his hands over Jed’s head as Jed tried to breathe without upsetting the angry pain growing in his side. Ron moved down to Jed’s chest, then stuck his left hand in the fire engulfing Jed’s abdomen. Suddenly Ron’s left hand was covered with more blood than his right hand, and Ron was screaming at the driver, “GW! Blue! Blue! Blue!” as the car lurched sideways.

Jed thought he’d like to pass out now, but Ron was pressing his hand onto Jed’s side and saying, “Stay with me, Mr. President. We’ll get you to the hospital.”

“Good, you should really get that hand looked at.” Jed tried to smile but only managed a grimace. His brain had gone back into slow motion. “I guess I’m bleeding, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. President.” Ron was visibly trying to calm himself, and Jed wondered for a moment if the man was going to burst into tears. He decided that was unlikely, even though Ron was probably going to be in pretty big trouble for letting the president get hurt. Jed tried to remember how he had gotten hurt, and whether it had been Ron’s fault.

“I got shot. Somebody shot me,” he said. He felt that perhaps he had known this the whole time, and had only just now gotten around to thinking about it.

“Yes, Mr. President.” By now Ron was pressing both hands into Jed’s wound to stem the bleeding. That must be painful, Jed thought. He’s got at least three broken bones in his right hand. He tried to shift so he could raise one of his own hands to the wound.

“Ron, don’t do that. You’ve probably got five broken bones in that hand. Let me do that.” Ron looked him directly in the eye with a forcefulness that made Jed freeze.

“No, sir, Mr. President.” Jed raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and relaxed, feeling once again like a helpless piece of meat to be guarded and hauled around, not the Commander-in-Chief of the most powerful country in the world. Ron moved his hands slightly to reach for his phone, and the ensuing pain convinced Jed that all he really wanted to do was breathe and let his agents carry him wherever they wanted.

“Coop, get the other cars up to speed. Find out if we’ve got McGarry in a car yet.” Jed heard his driver muttering into the radio as Ron began dialing a number into his phone. Jed hadn’t thought about what might have happened to Leo. He hadn’t let himself think about any of his staff yet. He had learned long ago that he could only worry about so many different things at once. He tried to tell himself that his friends were being looked after, but he knew that the Secret Service had priorities, too. Protect the President, check. Then the President’s family, check. Then if there was enough time and manpower, the Chief of Staff. Someone was probably getting Abbey, and Hoynes would be hidden away somewhere safe, just in case. Everyone else was on their own.

Someone answered on the other end of Ron’s phone. “We’re coming in,” the agent said. Jed couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation. He supposed Ron was calling the hospital to let them know they were about to be bombarded with a bleeding President and about eight million Secret Service agents. “No!” Ron shouted into the phone before hanging up.

“We’ll be there in a couple minutes, Mr. President,” Ron said to him gently. “How are you feeling?” Jed almost laughed. He knew he’d be getting stupid questions like that for at least the next couple hours, so he might as well begin his tough-guy act now. Never show weakness, or everyone around you will worry themselves to death.

“Well, other than the fact that you’re getting blood on my new jacket, it’s been a pretty good day. And how are you, Ron?” Ron smiled grimly, recognizing the bravado for what it was.

“Yes, Mr. President.” They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and then the car began to slow.

“We’re here, sir,” Coop yelled back from the driver’s seat. “They’re bringing a gurney out for you. Just sit tight.” Then the door on Jed’s side opened and woman wearing scrubs and a stethoscope was peering in at him.

“Good evening, Mr. President. I’m going to take your vitals and look you over, and then we’ll get you into the hospital and fix you up,” she said, smiling. Nurse, Jed decided, not doctor. He could tell by the way she smiled so warmly at him, then turned and snapped at the agents surrounding her to back off and give the President some air. She handed Ron a thick bandage to apply pressure with, then whisked off Jed’s jacket and began taking his blood pressure. After a few seconds, she smiled at him again and said, “You’re doing just fine, sir. You’re a trooper. Now let’s get you inside.” She turned and yelled for a gurney.

Suddenly a dozen hands were lifting Jed out of the car and setting him on a hospital bed. He glanced around, seeing the inside of the ambulance bay and about twenty people standing around him, none of whom were Zoey.

“Where’s my daughter? Where’s Zoey?” he asked, but his bed was being pushed through the doors into the hospital and everyone was talking over his head.

“He’s been shot in the abdomen. Visible entry and exit wound,” the nurse reported to someone Jed couldn’t see.

“BP 134 over 78,” someone else said. “Pulse 108.” Suddenly a doctor (Jed could tell by the white coat and brisk arrogance) was standing at his side, peeking under the bandage.

“What’s his pulse ox?” said a voice behind his head.

“98,” shouted another nurse. Jed wondered how they knew whose turn it was to speak at which time.

“Mr. President, I’m Dr. Keller,” said the doctor when he had finished looking at Jed’s bandage. “I’m the trauma surgeon on duty. The exit wound is a good indication. We like your vital signs.” Jed didn’t really give a damn what this man liked at this point. He had been out of the car for at least ten seconds now without seeing Zoey, and that was far too long. Time for some threats.

“I swear to God if I don’t see my daughter in the next five minutes, I’m going to attack something.” Let them wonder for themselves whether he meant a country or a person. He wasn’t too sure himself.

“She’s on her way,” said Ron as he came into view, holding his right hand in his left. Jed realized that no one had even noticed that the President was not the only casualty in the room.

“This guy’s got about seven broken bones in his hand, by the way, if somebody wants to give him an aspirin or something,” Jed shouted to the room, annoyed. Everyone ignored him.

“Okay, sir, we’re just going to get you stabilized,” Dr. Keller said as the gurney came to a stop.

“Listen, I want you to wait as long as you can before you give me the anesthesia,” Jed said, hoping that someone would start listening to him at some point. “I need to speak to Leo McGarry before you give me the anesthesia.” Let them think that he needed to pass on state secrets, not that he wanted to see his best friend before he went under.

“He’s on his way as well,” Ron said, hovering by his side. Jed was glad he was there. It gave him a sort of comfort in the chaos of the room. Another nurse popped up beside Jed’s ear.

“I need to ask you some questions, sir,” she said. Look at that, she had a clipboard and everything. Very efficient. “Do you have any medical conditions?”

Again with the dumb questions. This gave him another excuse not to mention the MS, though. “Well, I’ve been shot.”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse said, smiling patiently. Before she could start in with any troublesome questions about his current medications, someone put an oxygen tube next to his nose and said, “Just breathe, Mr. President.”

Dr. Keller elbowed the nurse out of the way and began unbuttoning Jed’s shirt. Someone else leaned Jed forward and cut down the back of his shirt.

“From what I can tell, Mr. President, the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs,” said Dr. Keller. “We’re going to open you up and check, just to be sure, but we shouldn’t have to do too much work to repair the damage.”

Suddenly the doors burst open and Zoey came through, beautifully alive and undamaged and not bleeding anywhere at all.

“Dad?”

“I’m okay.”

“Daddy?” Zoey strode into the room, then stopped uncertainly. Jed wanted to jump up and hug her, but settled for reassuring her.

“It didn’t hit anything, they’re just gonna look around and make sure.” Dr. Keller rolled Jed onto his left side to examine his back.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Zoey asked, coming to the side of the bed.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I want these guys to tell reporters that I was brave and joking around.” Jed hoped the nurses were listening to that part. He could use some good press. Zoey put her hand on his shoulder.

“You are brave,” she said, melting his heart, “You were so good today.”

“Honey, I’m fine,” Jed said as Zoey was pushed back by more nurses. “I’m just so happy to see you."

“Mom’s on her way,” Zoey said, patting his leg.

“Mom’s gonna be pretty pissed.” Jed remembered Abbey, tipsy on too much wine during the campaign, making him promise not to ride in any open convertibles in Texas.

“Yeah.”

Leo burst through the door and came to a halt at the foot of the bed next to Zoey. Jed had never seen an expression like that on Leo’s face before. He had hardly ever seen him speechless, either. Leo stared at Jed for a moment, then turned to look at Zoey.

“How you doing, kid?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Zoey said. Jed suddenly realized how pale they both were. At least Zoey had an excuse— She had been throwing up a couple minutes earlier.

“She booted all over the back of her car,” Jed said, his words started to slur at the painkillers kicked in. “You know they’re going to bill me for that.” He realized that he and Ron had bled all over his own car, but decided not to mention that.

“Yeah,” Leo said with the ghost of a smile. The color was starting to return to his face. Jed realized that the nurses had finished taking off his shirt and were starting to remove his pants, and decided it was time for his daughter to leave the room.

“Honey, do me a favor, would you?” He was concerned about hurting Zoey’s feelings, but she caught on and turned to go.

“Yeah, I’ll step outside. I’ll go wait for Mom.”

“Tell her not to frighten the doctors,” Jed shouted after her. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

“I love you!” Zoey called as she left.

“I love you too, hon.”

Leo slowly made his way around the bed, taking in Jed’s bandages and the blood on the sheets of the gurney.

“Anybody killed back there?” Jed asked quietly. Leo still seemed dazed, but he answered instantly.

“Two shooters. They got them from the window.” Jed hadn’t even been thinking about the shooters. He had been thinking about all the kids lined up to see him, about Toby, who had been smiling for once, about C.J. and Sam and Josh and Charlie.

“Anybody in the crowd?” As long as he didn’t ask about them, then his staff was alright.

Leo nodded slowly. “There were some injuries. They’re coming right now.” Coming here, Jed realized. Jed had gotten to the hospital first because he had left the scene first. Everyone else would have to wait for an ambulance.

“Any of our people?” Jed asked, bracing himself.

Leo shook his head. “C.J. hit her head on the ground, but other than that…” The relief on Leo’s face made Jed relax a notch. Everyone was accounted for. Time to go back to work.

“Get the Cabinet together,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

" And the Security Council.” What else… the stock market was going to take a hit. “Tell Jerome to suspend trading on the Stock Exchange.”

“Yeah,” Leo nodded.

“Do we know who the shooters were?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna be under anesthesia for a couple hours.” Jed looked directly at Leo, trusting him to read his mind.

“You’ll be fine.”

“You know what I’m talking about, right?”

“I’ll talk to Abbey.” Jed knew Abbey would take care of it. She understood the MS better than he did. She’d know who needed to be told what.

“Sir, it’s time.” A doctor touched Leo’s arm. Jed found that he didn’t want him to go. Ron had been whisked away, hopefully to have someone look at his hand, and Jed didn’t want to be alone.

“Hey,” Jed said. Leo glanced back at him, looking lost. “Come here.” Leo walked to Jed’s side. Jed pulled him down and kissed his cheek, a gesture which felt more natural than anything else he had done that day. “It’s okay.”

J ed watched Leo pull himself together. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Mr. President,” Leo said.  Jed nodded and patted his cheek before pulling away.

Dr. Keller followed Leo out of the room and most of the nurses scattered, giving Jed a moment to breathe. He tried to relax, but the adrenaline was still coursing through him and his body didn’t seem to accept that the worst was over, and that everything was okay. Instead his muscles remained tense and his gut churned. He listened to the noises of the hospital and waited for Abbey.

The moment of quiet did not last long. He heard klaxons sounding and saw flashing lights in the hallway. Nurses and doctors began to run past his door and he realized that another trauma patient was coming in, probably from the shooting. He concentrated on the shouting, trying to hear what was going on, but the drugs made his head feel fuzzy. He thought he heard C.J.’s voice, then Sam’s. Idly he wondered when someone would remember him and come to tell him what was going on.

After a few interminable minutes, a nurse entered and reached for the IV.

“What’s going on?” Jed demanded. “Who was just brought in?”

The nurse ignored his questions and injected something into his IV. “I’m starting your anesthesia, Mr. President, so we can take you up to the OR. Your wife said to tell you that she’ll be there when you wake up.”

Jed tried to mumble a protest, but his mouth wouldn’t respond. He finally gave up trying to tell anyone what to do and closed his eyes.

 

Jed woke to see his wife’s face and smiled. “Abbey,” he sighed.

“Jed, what did I tell you about convertibles in Texas?” Abbey said teasingly, blinking away tears.

Jed struggled to sit up, and a nurse was instantly at his side, fluffing his pillow and encouraging him not to move. Jed relaxed obediently and tried to blink away the remnants of the anesthesia. He realized that Abbey was holding on to his hand for dear life, and that Zoey was standing beside her.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

Zoey smiled and shrugged. “I’m fine, Dad.”

The fog in Jed’s head was beginning to clear and the memories of the day came flooding in.

“How long was I out?”

“About three and a half hours,” Abbey replied. “The surgeons found no organ damage. You’re going to be fine.”

“Is the country still in one piece?” Jed asked, half-joking.

“The country can run itself for a couple hours without you, Jed.” Abbey smiled, but it was strained. Jed felt like he was forgetting something important.

“How’s Ron? His hand?”

“The orthopedic surgeons took a look at it. They tried to send him to the hand center in Baltimore, but he refused. They’ve got it wrapped up, and they say he should recover full use of it.”

Jed smiled. “That’s great, honey.” Abbey’s smile faded and Jed wracked his brain, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Charlie brought your bag, with your clothes,” Zoey said softly. Jed had forgotten about Charlie. He suddenly remembered the commotion outside his door just before he was put under for surgery.

“Was someone else hit?” He knew instantly he had asked the right question. Zoey’s lip trembled, and Abbey took a deep breath.

“Josh Lyman was shot in the chest,” Abbey said evenly. Jed felt the room spin. Abbey continued, “He’s in surgery right now. They’re trying to repair his pulmonary artery. The rest of the staff is fine; they’re in the waiting room.”

Jed looked around the room, feeling lost. “I need to… I should go see him…”

“Jed, please,” Abbey said as Dr. Keller came in to check the IV. “I want you to lie still for a few hours.”

Leo trailed the doctor into the room. “Mr. President,” he began as he approached the bed.

“I want to see him,” Jed interrupted.

“Is he okay?” Leo asked Abbey, and Jed would have thrown something at him if he hadn't felt so weak. He was finished with people talking over his head.

“I told him about Josh,” Abbey explained.

“Please, help me to the door,” Jed said to Dr. Keller, who held out a hand.

“You should stay in bed,” Leo said.

“Charlie brought me some clothes. Please,” Jed said, looking up at Abbey, “Let me see him.”

Abbey and Dr. Keller shared a wordless conversation. Finally she looked back to her husband. “Okay. Just for a minute.”

Before she had finished her sentence, Jed was pushing himself up. “Okay.”

Abbey helped him out of bed and into his robe. Dr. Keller insisted that he use a wheelchair. Leo pushed him to the elevator and hit the button. The hallways of the hospital were empty and ghostly quiet. Jed supposed the Secret Service wasn’t taking any chances and had cleared the way for him.

Jed looked up at Leo as they waited. “Leo.”

Leo looked down at him. “Yes, Mr. President.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but the elevator doors opened. Leo pushed him inside, then waved off the Secret Service agent who tried to enter.

“Just let them know upstairs that we’re coming,” Leo said as he pushed the button for the OR. As the doors closed, leaving them alone, Leo crouched next to Jed. “I’m glad you’re okay, old friend,” he said softly, putting a hand on Jed’s arm.

“I’m not okay,” said Jed. “Somebody shot our friend, just because he was in the way. I’m not okay.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Leo said, standing. The elevator doors opened, and they were met by three Secret Service agents who ushered them to the doors to the observation area. Jed insisted on walking from there, leaning heavily on his IV stand.

Leo stood behind him as Jed walked up to the glass separating him from Josh’s operation room. Josh was covered from head to toe in sheets and tubes. Jed could barely recognize him with his hair covered by a surgical cap, and the respirator tubes blocking the lower half of his face. He looked so young.

Jed wanted to say, Is this my fault? He knew it wasn’t. He didn’t know why someone had shot at him and hit Josh, but he knew it wasn’t his fault any more than it was Josh’s. Jed knew he asked a lot from his staff. He asked for their time and their words and their faith. They sacrificed every day for him. But Josh wasn’t a soldier. Jed hadn’t asked Josh to lay down his life for his country. He wanted to say all of this to Leo, to ask why Josh was lying in front of them, bleeding, while they stood and watched and breathed.

Instead he said, “Look what happened.”

 


End file.
